


Vow of Celibacy

by CodaDelta



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eddie is a creepy fuck, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodaDelta/pseuds/CodaDelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waylon managed to buy himself some time before his 'transformation', but time is running out, and he is becoming more and more desperate as escape slips further and further away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"...Hmmm. Close. I can... the smell of my love's arbour. Darling, you can't hide from me."  
Waylon's breath was caught in his throat, heart pounding against his ribcage. God no, please no. The locker was small, the sides pressing against his shoulders, his hands pressed to his waist, the camcorder abandoned in his scrabble to get out of Gluskin's sights. The light scrape of fingers over metal told him just how close he was. His knees shook beneath him, and he prayed there was no sound of rattling. The door was loose enough. He couldn't hear the Groom's footsteps over the blood rushing to his ears. Eventually, he knew, eventually he would find him. There were only so many places he could go, and he wasn't even sure which way the exit was.This crazy fuck was going to find him; find him and kill him, or turn him into one of those... abominations and let him bleed out. He needed to get past him, run for the stairs or a window. He was already bleeding from one hand at least, and his leg burned. "You make yourself a gift for me. A delicacy to be unwrapped and-- unwrapped again. And savoured." His voice was close, hissing through the door. The slats were bent open and out of shape, but he didn't dare crane his neck to look for Gluskin. Waylon hoped against hope that the darkness was on his side, and that his face would be in shadow. If he could just keep quiet and wait until he moved away, he could bolt. He heard a metallic thunk, and with a sinking heart he realised the man was opening lockers.

"Here we go and--" That was when his face appeared. Waylon's silent prayers that he would somehow walk past him, just keep walking, and not notice were in vain as Gluskin's face twisted into a smile. It wasn't predatory, like the others had been, but fond. It made him feel a little sick. Having seen that terrible homage to childbirth in the other room, he didn't want to know what being Gluskin's 'bride' would entail. "I've been a little... vulgar. I know. And I want to say, I'm sorry. I just... you know how a man gets when he wants to know a woman."

No, no he didn't. Or was he talking about... oh God no. He didn't know what to do- he couldn't move, and he highly doubted he could overpower him. Waylon himself was skinny, and even if Gluskin hadn't been quite so tall and broad shouldered, it would have only been a tenuous possibility he would have been able to fend him off. He slid his hand around the back of locker, feeling desperately for any sort of weakness- he'd kicked his way out of a furnace for goodness' sake. He found nothing, and Gluskin was still talking. "But after the ceremony, when I've made an honest woman of you... I promise I'll be a different man." Made an honest...fucking hell. The fact that the question now spinning around Waylon's head was now if he was just going to rape him or whether he was going to castrate him first didn't disconcert him as much as it should. He was still having difficulty breathing, but he managed to gasp out a vague no . Gluskin frowned, considering. "I'll make an honest women of you, darling. I know you're afraid- you're such a good girl, you would be-, but it's alright."  
"Please... no." Half of the phrase was lost, but the frown deepened.  
"No? Don't be like them. Don't you leave me, I need you. We'll grow our family-" He was feeling sick again. No no no no this is so wrong this is so wrong no no no. Suddenly, he had a thought. If he could just regain a semblance of control of his own voice...  
"Not yet."  
"Not yet?" The man repeated."We've waited long enough, darling. Any longer and I'll think you won't love me." His lips were pressed into a thin line. "I'd think you were just another whore."  
"No! I want to wait. I want to..." Be sure? That couldn't help. "sort some things out?"  
"What?"  
What was it Lisa had said to him? "A single lady needs to take care of her things alone." The Groom considered for a few moments, the side of his face that had been rubbed partially raw twitching slightly. "I want... I want to..." His voice was cracking. He didn't want to play along with this, especially remembering the teasing words his wife had said to him when they first moved in together. Oh God, Lisa. Henry and Jacob. "I need to make sure that-" He was cut off by one of Gluskin's fingers, which snaked its way through the bent door of the locker and pressed against his lips.  
"Don't worry, I understand. But I'm eager to begin. To be wed." Waylon couldn't bring himself to agree with him.  
"I- I know, but," He took a deep breath as his mind raced. "please."  
Gluskin nodded slowly. "Very well." He offered Waylon a smile, which he hesitantly returned. The door swung openly slowly, and a hand closed around his wrist. He was pulled from the locker, stumbling, as Gluskin looked him up and down. "You look a mess, darling, though still beautiful. Come, there's running water, and you can bathe." Waylon walked behind him on shaking legs, tugged along in his strong grip, wondering just how he was going to leave, and if he would ever see his wife and boys again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Waylon misses his wife, has a conversation with Eddie, and I offer no satisfactory explanation for why this took so long.

Waylon carded his hands through his hair, feeling wads of dirt crumble underneath his fingers. He hadn't realised quite how filthy he was, despite slogging his way through dripping vents and falling down an elevator shaft, the amount of grime that had accumulated in his hair and over his skin still surprised him. The shower block was filthy and cold, but Gluskin hadn't lied about there being running water. It was lukewarm at best, but compared to the rest of the asylum it was very comfortable. It did little for his aching muscles, but it gave him a chance to be on his own for a while. His shoulders were tight, and the various cuts and grazes over his feet and arms stung sharply. He was attempting not to think about how this was absolutely not the ideal place to shower- surrounded by lunatics and the odd cannibal. Luckily, Gluskin had insisted on giving Waylon his privacy, though he was just outside the door. He'd decided that being naked in this place was nearing the bottom of his 'I want to do' list, so he'd rolled the jumpsuit down to his waist and tried to do his best with his pants still on. There was a knock on the door and he groaned.  
"Darling! Are you decent?"  
"N-not yet!" He stuttered. His hands shook as he twisted the shower knob to shut off the water and pulled his jumpsuit up over his shoulders. He didn't know what he was going to do- until now his plan had been to play along, but he wasn't sure how far that could get him before something very bad happened. If he entertained Gluskin's delusions for too long he wouldn't be able to leave, but if he protested, the man would most likely kill him. "One moment." He walked over to the door and pulled it open, met by Gluskin's concerned face.  
"Are you quite well?" He asked. "You seem terribly pale."  
"Just tired." He lied flatly.  
"I'm sorry, love." He reached out and took Waylon's wrists in one hand, thankfully not noticing his flinch. His breath caught in his throat at Gluskin being so close, and it took most of his willpower not to pull away as he reached up and stroked his hair off his forehead. "I didn't take a lady's stamina into account. Come," A length of rope was twisted around his wrists and there was no room for argument. He was lead through several corridors and down a flight of stairs back into the sewing room, before leading him through another door. "White will suit you very well, I think."

It was taking him a while to figure out exactly what Gluskin's deal was. One minute, he was perfectly amenable- courteous, even- but one wrong word or involuntary movement had him in a flying rage. There was a razor thin line between appealing to the gentleman in him and pushing his luck.  
This room was dingy, and there were rolls of material propped up in one corner. Several wooden pallets were pushed together against one wall, with a small pile of material sheets heaped in the middle. Through a gap, Waylon could see a thick pad of foam with several holes. There were several nails sticking part-way out of the wall and the room had no windows. He was pulled over towards the makeshift bed, and Gluskin gestured for him to sit, busying himself in his pockets. He pulled out a zip tie, and beckoned for his wrists. Waylon extended them, where his his palms were pressed together and the locking mechanism positioned against the back of one hand as the plastic was tightened. He'd done this before.  
"I will be back later." He promised before leaving the room. 

He should sleep, that was what Gluskin was giving him a chance to do, but there was a trembling running through his hands and forearms. He couldn't stop thinking about that grotesque...thing outside, about the other men that Gluskin had butchered, and the screaming. His hand ghosted over the wound in his leg. With his luck it was probably infected- he probably should have tried to clean it whilst he was in the shower. He pulled at the material of his left trouser leg, and swore as he felt it come away and heard the sickening squelch. Taking several deep breaths to steady himself, he began rolling up the leg of his jumpsuit. The air stung on contact with the mangled flesh around the still open wound, but after a few seconds it began to dull. The non-stop adrenaline that had been coursing through him was beginning to wear itself out, and he could feel the fatigue creeping into his muscles. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Tried to picture Lisa's face. The way she smiled.  
God, how long had it been? Weeks? Longer. They hadn't even let her see him when he was working there, let alone during his confinement. His wife- his wife or his children. He could only imagine what hell she'd unleashed on Jeremy Blaire when he called, and the thought made him smile. Idly, he rubbed his thumb over his ring finger. They'd even taken his fucking wedding ring. All he had left to remember his wife before he was disemboweled by some psychopath was the goddamn tan line where his ring used to be. Not that they were particularly moral, but they could have at least left him that. It wasn't even expensive.

He thought about the drive up here. It had been long and out of the blue- he'd been out of a job eight months and on the brink of taking payday loans. Ironic, as they'd said there would always be a need for someone who could manage software. Though he couldn't remember filing an application for a job at Murkoff, they'd decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Just packed everything up and left for Boulder with a plan to get the kids settled at school whilst he worked out his contract at Mount Massive. The boys had been well behaved, considering, and they'd only been able to catch local radio, most of it trash or angry hicks with a broadcasting liscence. When Henry and Jacob were asleep, he and Lisa had taken turns guessing the theme of the program before they reached the bulk of it- mostly between 'immigration', 'liberals', or 'the country going down the shitter' with the occasional story about black helicopters or the New World Order. After each there would be a different recording of the same Patsy Cline song. And they'd really thought this might be a new start. Lisa had even found an apartment he'd never got to see.  
He could never have imagined all of this- he wasn't sure anyone could. More than ever, he wanted to go home. He didn't care if that meant going back to the truck, back to California, or anywhere away from here.

He was vaguely aware that he could no longer feel the pounding of his heartbeat. He tried to focus on Lisa again, but the hazy embrace of his meandering thoughts was fading. He wasn't sure if he'd been dozing, but he could now hear Gluskin moving in the other room and the sick feeling in his stomach was returning. With any luck his almost-definitely infected leg wound would kill him before the Groom got the chance. God what a horrible thought. Lisa would smack him for it. She didn't appreciate his constant self-depreciation.  
"Love?"  
Waylon started. Gluskin was stood in the doorway, holding a rag and a cup. "Would you let me have a look at your leg? I know it must be troubling you." Suddenly he could feel his heart picking up speed again.  
"Uh." He'd seen what Gluskin's ministrations looked like, though he couldn't see how this could end too badly- that seemed to be an issue for him lately. But it may well be infected, and it couldn't hurt to get it cleaned. "Alright." If worst came to worst, he could feign the injured damsel. Gluskin smiled, and he felt the back of his neck crawl.  
"Don't move." He moved and squatted on the floor next to where Waylon was sat, placing his cup beside him. The rag in his hands was by no means sterile, but it was better than nothing. He placed a gentle hand on Waylon's leg, examining the area where the flesh had been pulled apart. "Clumsy, clumsy darling." It took most of his effort not to pull away from him. He was one of the last people that Waylon wanted to touch him, and the contact was incredibly uncomfortable. He kept his gaze on his injured leg, not wanting to look at Gluskin's face, watching as he began carefully cleaning the wound. It stung slightly so he gritted his teeth. "I'm not sure this will go away any time soon. Does it hurt?"  
"Uh," It took him a second to find his voice. "it's throbbing a bit."  
Gluskin tutted. "It was a nasty fall." There was a pause, and he glanced at Gluskin's face. His lips were pressed into a thin line, considering. His grip tightened somewhat. "I'm not sure why you would do that. Unless..." His nails were beginning to dig into his leg. "Unless you were-"  
"You startled me." It was half blurted out but not technically a lie. Gluskin looked up at him.  
"Oh, of course." The hold on his ankle relaxed. "I'm awfully sorry, I didn't mean to. I was just glad to see you. Can you forgive me?"  
Waylon nodded. His hands were shaking again. It was beyond disconcerting how quickly his attitude changed, and he wasn't sure what to say. He knew he'd caught a lucky vein there, and let out a long breath through his nose. He may as well test the waters whilst he still could.  
"Mr Gluskin-"  
"Oh, darling. How many times must I ask you to call me Eddie?"  
"Eddie. Um-" He absolutely did not want to be on first name terms with him. "do you...do you think that we could, go on a walk? Outside?"  
"I don't think you can walk anywhere as you are." He returned his attention to the ankle wound.  
"Not now, just...sometime."  
"If that's what you'd like. When you're better and you've attended to the business you mentioned. For now, however, you look exhausted- you ought to sleep. I'm sorry I disturbed you. I just wanted to be sure you weren't going to become ill. I know the fairer sex often endure the same wounds with more suffering"  
"Thank you."  
Eddie got to his feet once again and smiled at him.  
"Good night, darling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't deserve comments but they sure do make me happy.


End file.
